running scene 7
Enter Viola and Malvolio at several doors
MALVOLIO Were not you ev'n1 now with the Countess Olivia?
VIOLA Even now, sir, on2 a moderate pace I have since
arrived but hither.3
Shows a ring
MALVOLIO She returns this ring to you, sir. You
might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away
yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord
into a desperate assurance7 she will none of him. And one
thing more, that you be never so hardy8 to come again in his
affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this.9
Receive it10 so.
VIOLA She took the ring of me. I'll none of it.
MALVOLIO Come, sir, you peevishly12 threw it to her, and her will
Throws it on the ground
is, it should be so13 returned. If it be worth
stooping for, there it lies in your eye.14 If not, be
it his that finds it.
Exit
VIOLA I left no ring with her. What means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside17 have not charmed her!
She made good view of18 me, indeed so much
That methought her eyes had lost19 her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.20
She loves me, sure. The cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish22 messenger.
None of my lord's ring? Why, he sent her none;
I am the man. If it be so, as 'tis,
Poor lady, she were better25 love a dream.
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy27 does much.
How easy is it for the proper-false28
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms!29
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we30,
For such as we are made of, such we be.
How will this fadge?32 My master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond33 as much on him,
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for36 my master's love.
As I am woman -- now alas the day! --
What thriftless38 sighs shall poor Olivia breathe?
O time, thou must untangle this, not I.
It is too hard a knot for me t'untie.
[Exit]
Act 2 Scene 3
running scene 8
Enter Sir Toby and Sir Andrew
SIR TOBY Approach1, Sir Andrew. Not to be abed after
midnight is to be up betimes2, and diluculo surgere, thou
know'st--
SIR ANDREW Nay, by my troth I know not, but I know to be up
late is to be up late.
SIR TOBY A false conclusion. I hate it as an unfilled can.6 To be
up after midnight and to go to bed then is early: so that to go
to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does not our
lives consist of the four elements?9
SIR ANDREW Faith, so they say, but I think it rather consists of
eating and drinking.
SIR TOBY Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink.
Marian, I say, a stoup13 of wine!
Enter Clown [Feste]
SIR ANDREW Here comes the fool, i'faith.
FESTE How now, my hearts! Did you never see the picture15
of 'we three'?
SIR TOBY Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch.17
SIR ANDREW By my troth the fool has an excellent breast.18 I had
rather than forty shillings I had such a leg19, and so sweet a
breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth thou wast20 in very
gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of
Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial22 of
Queubus. 'Twas very good, i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for
thy leman. Hadst it?24
FESTE I did impeticos thy gratillity25, for Malvolio's nose is no
whipstock. My lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons26
are no bottle-ale houses.27
SIR ANDREW Excellent. Why, this is the best fooling, when all is
done. Now, a song.
Gives a coin to Feste
SIR TOBY Come on, there is sixpence for you. Let's
have a song.
Gives another coin
SIR ANDREW There's a testril of32 me too. If one
knight give a--
FESTE Would you have a love song, or a song of good life?34
SIR TOBY A love song, a love song.
SIR ANDREW Ay, ay. I care not for good life.
Sings
FESTE O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear, your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low.39
Trip no further, pretty sweeting40,
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.
SIR ANDREW Excellent good, i'faith.
SIR TOBY Good, good.
Sings
FESTE What is love? 'Tis not hereafter45,
Present mirth hath present laughter.
What's to come is still47 unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty48,
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty49,
Youth's a stuff50 will not endure.
SIR ANDREW A mellifluous voice, as I am true51 knight.
SIR TOBY A contagious breath.52
SIR ANDREW Very sweet and contagious, i'faith.
SIR TOBY To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion.54 But
shall we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we rouse55 the
night owl in a catch that will draw three souls56 out of one
weaver?57 Shall we do that?
SIR ANDREW An you love me, let's do't. I am dog58 at a catch.
FESTE By'r lady59, sir, and some dogs will catch well.
SIR ANDREW Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave'.60
FESTE 'Hold thy peace61, thou knave', knight? I shall be
constrained62 in't to call thee knave, knight.
SIR ANDREW 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call
me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace'.
FESTE I shall never begin if I hold my peace.
Catch sung
SIR ANDREW Good, i'faith. Come, begin.
Enter Maria
MARIA What a caterwauling do you keep67 here? If my lady
have not called up her steward68 Malvolio and bid him turn
you out of doors, never trust me.
SIR TOBY My lady's a Catayan, we are politicians70, Malvolio's a
Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we'.71 Am not I
consanguineous? Am I not of her blood? Tillyvally.72 Lady!
Sings
'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!'73
FESTE Beshrew74 me, the knight's in admirable fooling.
SIR ANDREW Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do
I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.76
Sings
SIR TOBY 'O, the twelfth day of December'77--
MARIA For the love o'God, peace!
Enter Malvolio
MALVOLIO My masters, are you mad? Or what are you? Have
you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers80
at this time of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's
house, that ye squeak out your coziers'82 catches without any
mitigation or remorse83 of voice? Is there no respect of place,
persons, nor time in you?
SIR TOBY We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!85
MALVOLIO Sir Toby, I must be round86 with you. My lady bade me
tell you that though she harbours87 you as h
er kinsman, she's
nothing allied88 to your disorders. If you can separate yourself
and your misdemeanours, you are welcome to the house. If
not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very
willing to bid you farewell.
Sings
SIR TOBY 'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.'92
MARIA Nay, good Sir Toby.
Sings
FESTE 'His eyes do show his days are almost done.'
MALVOLIO Is't even so?95
Sings
SIR TOBY 'But I will never die.'
FESTE Sir Toby, there you lie.
MALVOLIO This is much credit to you.
Sings
SIR TOBY 'Shall I bid him go?'
Sings
FESTE 'What an if100 you do?'
Sings
SIR TOBY 'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?101'
Sings
FESTE 'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.'
SIR TOBY Out o'tune, sir, ye lie. Art103 any more than a steward?
Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no
more cakes and ale?105
FESTE Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger106 shall be hot
i'th'mouth too.
SIR TOBY Thou'rt i'th'right. Go, sir, rub your chain with108
crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria!
MALVOLIO Mistress Mary, if you prized110 my lady's favour at
anything more than contempt, you would not give means111 for
this uncivil rule112; she shall know of it, by this hand.
Exit
MARIA Go shake your ears.113
SIR ANDREW 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's
a-hungry, to challenge him the field115, and then to break
promise with him and make a fool of him.
SIR TOBY Do't, knight. I'll write thee a challenge, or I'll deliver
thy indignation to him by word of mouth.
MARIA Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight. Since the
youth of the count's was today with my lady, she is much out120
of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him121: if I
do not gull him into a nayword122 and make him a common
recreation123, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in
my bed. I know I can do it.
SIR TOBY Possess125 us, possess us, tell us something of him.
MARIA Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan.126
SIR ANDREW O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog!
SIR TOBY What, for being a puritan? Thy exquisite128 reason,
dear knight?
SIR ANDREW I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason
good enough.
MARIA The devil a puritan that he is, or anything
constantly, but a time-pleaser, an affectioned ass, that cons133
state without book and utters it by great swarths. The best134
persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with
excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith136 that all that look
on him love him. And on that vice in him will my revenge
find notable cause to work.
SIR TOBY What wilt thou do?
MARIA I will drop in his way some obscure epistles140 of love,
wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the
manner of his gait, the expressure142 of his eye, forehead, and
complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated.143
I can write very like my lady your niece: on a forgotten144
matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands.145
SIR TOBY Excellent! I smell a device.146
SIR ANDREW I have't in my nose too.
SIR TOBY He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop,
that they come from my niece and that she's in love with
him.
MARIA My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour.
SIR ANDREW And your horse now would make him an ass.
MARIA Ass153, I doubt not.
SIR ANDREW O, 'twill be admirable!
MARIA Sport royal, I warrant you. I know my physic155 will
work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a
third, where he shall find the letter. Observe his construction157
of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event.158 Farewell.
Exit
SIR TOBY Good night, Penthesilea.159
SIR ANDREW Before me160, she's a good wench.
SIR TOBY She's a beagle161, true-bred, and one that adores me.
What o'that?
SIR ANDREW I was adored once too.
SIR TOBY Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more
money.
SIR ANDREW If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out.166
SIR TOBY Send for money, knight. If thou hast her not
i'th'end, call me cut.168
SIR ANDREW If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will.
SIR TOBY Come, come, I'll go burn some sack.170 'Tis too late to
go to bed now. Come, knight, come, knight.
Exeunt
Act 2 Scene 4
running scene 9
Enter Duke [Orsino], Viola, Curio and others
ORSINO Give me some music.-- Now, good morrow, friends.
Now, good Cesario, but2 that piece of song,
That old and antique3 song we heard last night;
Methought it did relieve my passion4 much,
More than light airs and recollected terms5
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse.
CURIO He is not here, so please your lordship, that should
sing it.
ORSINO Who was it?
CURIO Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady Olivia's
father took much delight in. He is about the house.
ORSINO Seek him out, and play the tune the while.13
[Exit Curio]
Music plays
Come hither, boy. If ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me,
For such as I am, all true lovers are:
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else17,
Save in the constant18 image of the creature
That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune?
VIOLA It gives a very echo to the seat20
Where love is throned.
ORSINO Thou dost speak masterly.22
My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stayed upon some favour24 that it loves:
Hath it not, boy?
VIOLA A little, by your favour.26
VIOLA Of your complexion.
ORSINO She is not worth thee, then. What years, i'faith?
VIOLA About your years, my lord.
ORSINO Too old by heaven. Let still31 the woman take
An elder than herself, so wears she32 to him,
So sways she level33 in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies35 are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn36,
Than women's are.
VIOLA I think it well38, my lord.
ORSINO Then let thy love be younger than thyself,
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent40,
For women are as roses, whose fair flower
Being once displayed42, doth fall that very hour.
VIOLA And so they are. Alas, that they are so.
To die, even when they to perfection grow!
Enter Curio and Clown [Feste]
To Feste
ORSINO O, fellow, come, the song we had last night.--
Mark it47, Cesario, it is old and plain;
The spinsters48
and the knitters in the sun
And the free maids that weave their thread with bones49
Do use to chant it. It is silly sooth49,
And dallies50 with the innocence of love,
Like the old age.51
FESTE Are you ready, sir?
Music
ORSINO I prithee sing.
FESTE
The song
Sings
Come away54, come away, death,
And in sad cypress55 let me be laid.
Fly away, fly away, breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew58,
O, prepare it!
My part of death, no one so true60
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower, sweet
On my black coffin let there be strewn.63
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there!
ORSINO There's for thy pains.
FESTE No pains, sir. I take pleasure in singing, sir.
ORSINO I'll pay thy pleasure then.
FESTE Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid73, one time or
another.
ORSINO Give me now leave to leave75 thee.
FESTE Now, the melancholy god76 protect thee, and the
tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta77, for thy mind is
a very opal. I would have men of such constancy78 put to sea,
that their business might be everything and their intent79
everywhere, for that's it that always makes a good voyage of80
nothing. Farewell.
Exit
Curio and Attendants stand aside
ORSINO Let all the rest give place.82
Once more, Cesario,
Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty:
Tell her my love, more noble than the world,
Prizes not quantity of dirty85 lands.
The parts86 that fortune hath bestowed upon her
Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune.87
But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems88
That nature pranks89 her in attracts my soul.
VIOLA But if she cannot love you, sir?
ORSINO I cannot be so answered.
VIOLA Sooth, but you must.
Say that some lady, as perhaps there is,
Hath for your love as great a pang of heart
As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her.
You tell her so. Must she not then be answered?96
ORSINO There is no woman's sides
Can bide98 the beating of so strong a passion
As love doth give my heart, no woman's heart
So big, to hold so much. They lack retention.100
Alas, their love may be called appetite101,
No motion of the liver, but the palate102,
That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt.103
But mine104 is all as hungry as the sea,
And can digest as much. Make no compare105
Between that love a woman can bear me